


Forests in the Desert

by savant (teii)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic Draining/Replenishing, Mentions of Violence, Misunderstandings, The dude gets punched in the face tho, one (1) homophobic slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26665291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teii/pseuds/savant
Summary: Neville leans forward slightly in his chair, giving Blaise a worried look.“Blaise, I got into contact with a healer in San Francisco a few hours ago, just in case. I listed your symptoms to her, and….” Neville frowns, his eyes staring into Blaise’s.“She said that you must have had no magic in your system for a while when I found you. So much so that you’re now allergic to it. How long have you not had any--"“Eight.”“Eight...months?” Neville asks hopefully.Blaise gives him a grim smile. “Years.”Cyberpunk AU
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Forests in the Desert

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is a cyberpunk AU that’s inspired by cd projekt red’s cyberpunk 2077. The only real bit of ‘lore’ you might need to understand the context is that Arasaka and Militech are two rival weapons manufacturing megacorporations that are constantly at each other’s throats. Thanks for taking a chance on this! :)

“Might be seeing some entertainment tonight.”

Blaise feels his coworker press a beer bottle against his arm, prompting him to turn his head to where Hernandez was pointing.

_Arasaka._

Blaise frowns. This particular izakaya was barely a block away from Militech HQ and always had Militech employees milling about after work. For an Arasaka corpo to brazenly walk in like this was asking for trouble.

Blaise puts down his drink, disgruntled. His order of yakitori hasn’t arrived yet, but he also wasn’t keen on sticking around for the inevitable fight. Already, he could feel tensions rising, the back of his neck prickling as every one of his coworkers slowly becoming aware of the stranger in their midst. He’s about to get up, to get Hernandez to do the same before they get dragged into the mess.

Except a warm, gentle hand alights on his shoulder, rooting him in his stool. His face instantly flushes for some reason, not from the alcohol, the hand burning through him even through his suit and shirt.

“Blaise?”

Blaise chances a glance at the newcomer, the lilt of the man’s voice too familiar to pretend to not be curious.

He didn’t expect Neville Longbottom to be smiling at him, relaxed and easy, despite the glares he’s getting from Blaise’s coworkers.

Blaise swallows. He’s lived in Night City for eight years, and hasn’t met a single wizard or witch in his time here, and for one to show up now…

For _Neville_ in particular to show up….

Blaise’s optical scanner implant whirs, dredging up the man’s public records as Blaise continues to stare.

LONGBOTTOM, NEVILLE  
CORPORATE AGENT  
PREDICTED THREAT: UNKNOWN

He pulls back out of the AR screen, frowning up at Longbottom.

“May I...help you?” he asks carefully, knowing full well the entire room’s eyes are on him. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. Acting like he knows Longbottom would only start rumors of him committing corporate espionage, selling secrets to Arasaka, or worse. He already knows a fair few of his colleagues would be thrilled at the opportunity to rat him out and take his spot on the corporate ladder.

Neville smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and he chuckles nervously. “Blaise, come off it, it’s me, I just-- I can’t believe I found you, here of all places…”

Blaise takes another glance at Hernandez, the man’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looks back and forth between the two.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees one of the goons from Securities, Ormano, slamming his tankard down onto the table and swaggers up to the two, eyes glassy from cheap beer, and aggression tight in his voice.

“Who the fuck is _this_ , Zabini?” Ormano slurs, stabbing a meaty finger at Longbottom.

Blaise glares right back, lifting his head slightly to make sure he’s at a good vantage point to look down at the gargantuan man. “Just an old high school friend, no need to threaten everyone that walks in.”

“You fucking around with Arasaka now? Knew you’d fuck anything with legs, but didn’t think you’d sink this low. Your little ‘high school sweetheart’ suck cock that well?” Ormano howls at his own crude joke, and Blaise has never wanted to deck someone so badly in his life.

So he does.

“BLAISE!” Neville and Hernandez shout at the same time, and Blaise’s glowering at Ormano who’s sprawled on the floor. Blaise’s quick reflex had let him get the upperhand, knocking the man to the ground, but Ormano’s built-in titanium jaw meant that Blaise’s fist felt like he had broken at least a few fingers.

“Blaise, c’mon, let’s get out of here,” Neville mutters into Blaise’s ear, grabbing his wrist.

Blaise hisses, the heat from before cranked up to eleven, searing him straight through as his knees buckled, his breath coming up in short pants.

His vision swims, colors becoming much too saturated and bright, sounds too loud and piercing and he squeezes his eyes shut to block out the searing brightness of the world. It takes him a little too long to realize what was going on.

_Magic_. 

Magic is thrumming in his veins again after years of him steadfastly avoiding it, unabashedly heady and rich and all too decadent. The rush of Neville’s magic coursing through him was as spine-tinglingly intoxicating as much as it was viciously nauseating, the onslaught of energy making his head spin. Blaise staggers forward, his balance shot, just as Neville catches him in his arms.

“Blaise? Blaise, you alright mate?”

“I….” Blaise manages out, fighting against the debilitating spin, before his world turns black.

* * *

Blaise had spent his entire 7th year at Hogwarts being aggressively neutral. One side was inevitably going to fall, and he didn’t trust himself to guess which one it would be. 

It worked out relatively alright for him. He didn’t draw any attention to himself, positive or negative. He came back to Hogwarts for his Eighth Year when three days into the term, the Prophet leaked the Zabini’s records, citing that his mother and her current husband had invested in several ventures and businesses owned by Dark Wizards, the Lestranges included. They had fled to Italy to avoid the media scrutiny, leaving Blaise to deal with the Aurors constantly coming into Hogwarts to interrogate him. 

Suddenly, it was as if the whole school found its easy scapegoat. With an all-time record low attendance of returning Slytherins, Blaise bore the brunt of the as much as he could. There was little the professors could do to help him without making his classmates even more furious with him, and he had figured that if he just kept his head down for the rest of the year, he could graduate without getting sent to Mungo’s.

And then, Longbottom barged his way into his life. Sat next to him at the empty Slytherin table one morning with a smile and a completely inane excuse about how the Gryffindor table never had any bacon left because Finnegan and Weasley raze through it all every morning. Blaise didn’t know what to make of it, but didn’t tell Longbottom to sod off, feeling as though if one of the war heroes wanted to give him a bit of protection, he wasn’t going to complain. 

What he didn’t expect was for him to slowly, genuinely _want_ to spend time with Longbottom. They began to study together, share meals together, and even spend weekends in the greenhouses, where there was little chance of anyone coming to harass him. It was as if his entire social life had narrowed down to one person, but it was far more than Blaise hoped for at the start of the year.

Until Neville walked into Charms one morning with a cut lip and a black eye.

Blaise had grabbed his shoulder. Demanded answers. Neville turned his head away from Blaise, swiping at his cheek with the back of his hand. “They snuck up from behind, cowards.” He had spat out.

Blaise’s eyes hardened, his stomach sank with dread. “Longbottom, are you saying you’ve been getting jumped all this time? Because of _me_?”

Neville turns to face him, fire in his eyes. “They’re horrible, the lot of them. You don’t have access to your mum’s finances, and you weren’t on the dark side. Nobody has given you a fair shake, and it’s completely maddening to just watch them get away with it.”

Blaise didn’t say anything. Couldn’t have said anything. Felt his skin crawl with shame and his stomach flip over and over, livid at himself. How could he have been so self-absorbed? So wrapped up in his own self-pity that he didn't realize that Neville had been suffering right along with him?

He wanted to cut ties with Neville right there and then. He didn’t deserve to be branded as a social pariah with Blaise, not after everything he’s done. But Blaise was far too weak to make the first move. It was only until after graduation and he didn’t have to face Longbottom everyday that he left the wizarding world entirely. It was the best, for both of them.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

* * *

Blaise wakes up somewhere unfamiliar.

Blaise blearily turns his head to look out the window, just as a giant neon, holographic koi swims by, and Blaise finds himself staring blankly at its long, elegant tail fin rippling behind it. His vision is still a little fuzzy, head dully throbbing, but the nausea has gone away for the time being. He sighs, the feeling of magic coursing through him all at once familiar yet foreign, like picking up a language he hadn't spoken in awhile.

“Is it too much? I can close the blinds if you want.” Neville murmurs, and Blaise looks up to find the man sitting next to the bed he’s lying on.

“A little,” Blaise admits. Neville leans back slightly to flick a switch on the wall, and the metal shutters next to his window slide into place.

  
  


Blaise takes a moment to take in Neville’s appearance. Not much has changed about the man, even after all this time, though his cheeks have rounded out slightly, and he’s looking relatively healthier than that year after the war. His hair is shorter too, and Blaise has to smile at that.

“Took my advice finally, did you?”

“Oh what?” Neville asks, before following Blaise’s finger up to his head, and he laughs, ruffling his cropped hair in a sheepish manner. “Figured if the Slytherin Prince thought I looked better without a bowl cut, I should probably take his advice.”

“Always thought everyone at Hogwarts agreed Draco was the prince.” Blaise smirks.

Neville shakes his head, staring straight at Blaise, a smile playing on his lips. “Not me.”

Blaise blinks, letting the words sink in, but doesn’t want to assume more than what Neville was putting down. He changes the subject in the meantime. “Where are we…?”

“My flat, figured you needed a place to rest, and I didn’t know where you lived.” Neville explains.

Blaise sits up slightly to take a look at the place. It’s a one room apartment, though it would be more accurate to describe it as a luxury condo with no dividing walls, complete with black marble flooring and minimalist, flat furniture. But the signature piece was a giant perforated pillar in the center of the room stretching from floor to ceiling, with plants woven in through the lattices. It takes a moment, but Blaise’s eyes widen, now noticing the buds of dittany snaking out behind the moonflowers and valerian leaves.

“They’re all…”

“Magical plants, yes,” Neville hums. “Night City drains magic out of magic users. My MACUSA liaison told me before I arrived that there weren’t any recorded populations of magic users living within the city limits, and that I would have to supply my own magic if I wanted to live here. So--”

“You brought your entire greenhouse with you.” Blaise jokes, and Neville cracks a half smile.

“Barely a tenth. Had to leave some of my favorites behind.”

Blaise frowns, slowly remembering the incident.

“What...happened? Did Ormano...?”

“Oh, that big bloke? Had to do a stunner on him. Wandless, and I guess the muggles thought it was normal? Your friend helped me get you into a taxi, nice gent.”

Blaise chuckles, “Arasaka released a built-in taser as a cyberarm enhancement last year, we’re still trying to catch up to make our own. The bar probably thought you were showing off.”

Neville rises up from his seat, heading over to the kitchen island, procuring a glass from the dish rack. “Thought they _were_ giving me an unusually wide berth.” He muses.

Neville walks back to Blaise and hands over a glass of water as he sits back down. Blaise gratefully takes it, draining half the glass before he puts it on the side table by the bed. Neville sighs, his face shuttering slightly as he rubs the back of his neck. “Blaise...how come you’re here?”

Blaise shrugs. “Militech needed someone who can speak eight languages and was willing to tear into their global suppliers at all hours of the day.”

Neville leans forward slightly in his chair, giving Blaise a worried look.

“That’s not...look, Blaise, I got into contact with a healer in San Francisco a few hours ago, just in case. I listed your symptoms to her, and….” Neville frowns, his eyes staring into Blaise’s.

“She said that you must have had no magic in your system for a while when I found you. So much so that you’re now allergic to it.”

Blaise laughs nervously, taken aback by the diagnosis.

“That’s...that’s not a thing, right?”

Neville shakes his head. “She said it starts to happen to wizards that stay in Night City for longer than two weeks. Blaise, how long have you been--”

“Eight.”

“Eight...months?” Neville asks hopefully.

Blaise gives him a grim smile. “Years.”

Neville surges forward, eyes wild, cupping Blaise’s face in his hands, his breath hitching, voice soft and wet. “ _Blaise_.”

Blaise shudders. Neville’s magic was sinking underneath his skin, and his face feels like it was simultaneously on fire and plunged into the sea. Shakily, he brings his hands up to latch loosely on Neville’s arms, grounding himself, trying to fight through the nausea to experience the bloom in his heart at being touched, feeling the depths of Neville’s particular brand of magic burying itself deep within his bones, healing and furious and cleansing.

“Nev, I…”

Neville pulls back immediately as if scalded. Blaise can’t help but gasp, his world no longer tinged with halations and bursts of light, and he craves Neville’s touch immediately. 

“Sorry! Sorry, gods, I completely forgot--”

“I chose this. I chose this _life_.” Blaise mumbles out loud, hands groping for nothing. “I was fine, I was happy.” He lies easily.

“Blaise…” Neville starts, wrapping a hand around his own fist, as if resisting the temptation to touch Blaise again. Blaise opens his mouth, ready to beg for Neville to do it, to bring him back into that neon drenched void.

But he’s far too much of a coward to do so.

“Being a squib in Night City isn’t so bad,” Blaise tries to joke instead, but it seems to break something in Neville as he stands up, his chair screeching underneath him. Blaise can see Neville’s fists ball up, a defeated look on his face.

“I can’t, I can’t do this right now,” Neville chokes out, resolutely not looking at Blaise as he walks out. “You...you need rest. I need a walk. We’ll...pick this up later.” Neville says, only glancing back to give Blaise an agonized look before he turns to walk out of the apartment.

Blaise slowly lies back down on the bed. It was if Neville had taken the light with him, the flat now bathed in muddy grey in his absence. 

* * *

He wakes up alone.

The dash on the side table tells him it’s four in the morning, and Blaise stares up at the ceiling, defeated.

Was this just how it was going to be? That no matter what he did, he was always going to hurt Neville, in one way or another?

He probably should just leave, get out of his life, go back to his own flat and pretend none of this ever happened.

_Just like you did for eight years?_ A voice in his head sneers.

He frowns, and pushes himself up with his elbows. He walks over to the panel nearest to the bed, pressing his hand against it for it to slide open, revealing a bathroom. He shivers, the soles of his feet hitting the cool tiles as he makes his way towards the sink, waving an impatient hand underneath the tap to splash water on his face. He stares back at his reflection. He looks haggard, worn down, and he scowls, staring back down into the basin, watching the water drain away.

He doesn’t deserve Neville’s kindness. Never has.

He finds his suit jacket quickly enough, as Neville had kindly placed it on the back of a chair. He walks toward the entrance, when he passes by the pillar, and stops, staring at the wall of plants.

He breathes in, magic tickling his nose, and reaches out a hand to brush a leaf with his fingertip. The plants’ magic wasn’t as potent as Neville’s, and it’s just enough that Blaise can touch without danger of getting too winded.

He sinks his whole hand into the foliage, taking a steadying breath as he lets more magic pour into him. 

No more hiding. No more pretending that he didn’t need this.

He settles onto the bench ringing around the pillar, twisting so he sits with the leaves of starlit anises cushioning his cheek. Memories of lazy afternoons in greenhouse two with Neville return to him unbidden. The way he moved through the lanes, throwing Blaise a quick grin every so often. The way Neville seemed to glow being amongst the greenery, holding out fruits or thick edible leaf cuttings for Blaise to try, the juices running through his fingers. The way his face softened when Blaise asked for more.

Blaise closes his eyes, letting the suit jacket pool onto the floor as he nestles into the foliage, his world narrowing down to the scent of arctic mint and fresh jujubes.

* * *

Blaise opens his eyes, to find that it’s much, much later, the sun setting outside. Neville’s sitting at the kitchen island, flicking through a holographic screen with a frown on his face. He walks over to him, a soft, yet wary smile on his face as he presses a glass of iced tea into Blaise’s hands. A peace offering.

“Sorry for...running out like that. That was childish of me.” He apologizes, “Especially terrible since you weren’t out of the woods yet, and I still left you alone.”

“You were right, I really just needed sleep,” Blaise says, though it does little to ease Neville’s guilt. “You needed a break anyways from watching over me, no harm no foul.”

Blaise takes a long sip of the barley tea, letting it run down his throat. He pats the wooden bench beside him for Neville to take a seat. “I never asked what you were doing here.”

Neville slides into the seat next to him, flicking his wrist to pull up a 50 inch holoscreen, with hundreds of seeds and their characteristics flicking by. “With any luck, growing a forest in the badlands.”

Blaise frowns. The badlands surrounding Night City was a nuclear wasteland, toxic chemicals seeped into the sands of the desert.

“Is that even possible?”

Neville turns towards him, the light from the projector throwing blue light across his face. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Arasaka’s plan for the next ten years is to jump into the Agro business, try and beat out the rest of the competition with reclaimed farmland. They have the money for the research, and if we succeed here…” Neville smiles at Blaise, “we could replicate this for the world, even for magic settlements.”

Blaise has to smile at the irony of it. The mighty Arasaka, making tools bent on destroying the world and yet also funneling money into bringing it back to life solely for capital. There’s a brightness in Neville’s eyes though, and Blaise can’t help but be proud of Neville, fighting to save the world, in any way he can.

An easy silence settles between them, a pit lurks inside Blaise’s stomach. Neville, out of everyone, deserves an apology.

“Neville. I’m…” Blaise sighs, gathering up his bravery to push forward. “I’m so sorry. For leaving like that, without a word. I just...I just thought you’d be better off without me.”

Neville doesn’t say anything for a while, and Blaise forces himself to stew in the suffocating silence. He deserved it.

“I...was lost, back then.” Neville finally says, his voice soft and low, staring down at his hands. “I thought I had hurt you in some way. Thought I’d done something so catastrophically wrong that it made you want to leave.”

Blaise snaps forward, gripping Neville’s arm, forcing the other man to look at him, ignoring how his stomach roils in protest. “You didn’t, you didn’t do _anything_. I couldn’t stand that people could be so horrible to you even after you saved them, and I figured that if I left, then they would leave you alone.” Blaise sighs. “I thought I was doing the right thing, when I clearly wasn’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I just--” Blaise stops mid-sentence, catching his breath. “I was selfish, and you had to suffer for it, and I’m so, so sorry.”

“None of the stuff they did meant anything to me, they had no right to play judge, jury, and executioner on people that clearly had no role to play in the war. On you.” Neville spits out, righteous vindictiveness laced in every word. “I never would have faulted you for wanting to leave wizarding society. I just...out of all the places, you came _here_.”

Neville sighs deeply, shaking his head. “I didn’t know what happened to you. I didn’t have an address to send letters to. It was like you dropped off the face of the earth. You really didn’t want any part of your past to find you again, did you?”

Blaise’s throat seizes up. He wants to say it. Wants to say that at the very least, he wanted Neville in his life. But the words felt too raw, too dangerous to be spoken out loud. He had just found Neville again, he wasn’t going to throw it all away over his stupid feelings.

“I just…” Blaise looks away, “This job found me, and paid well enough, so I came here.”

Silence falls between the two, and Blaise once again feels exposed, the last eight years of his life coming to a head. He always figured that one day, he’d have the guts to finally apologize to Neville for what he’s done. He just didn’t know it would be so draining and pyrrhic.

“I…” Neville starts, giving Blaise a tired half smile. “I’m sorry. I must have done a number on you. Showing up out of the blue, knocking you out with magic. I just heard rumors about you being here, and I was too curious and I--” Neville trails off, shaking his head.

“You wanted a quiet life. I get that. I didn’t mean to drag you back into all...this.”

Blaise looks back at Neville, bewildered. How in blazes does the man still think that _he’s_ the problem in all this?

“Nev,” he chokes out, “I went through eight years without magic. I thought it was penance. I thought I could pretend nothing about my past could hurt me if I just ignored it long enough.” He stares straight into Neville’s eyes, feeling his own magic roll off of him, mixing with Neville’s. “But all I did in the end was hurt the one person that showed me kindness, despite everything.”

Neville leans closer, his hand hovering over Blaise’s, his eyes flickering up towards Blaise. Blaise makes the decision for him, clasping Neville’s warm, dry hand into his, taking a deep breath as he does. The room sharpens in front of his eyes, but all Blaise sees is Neville, and a small, wavering smile across his lips. “Blaise, did you ever think of the possibility that I would have dropped everything and followed you _anywhere_?”

Blaise’s stunned, staring blankly at Neville’s quickly reddening face. Brings up a hand to gently cup his face. “You didn’t...take this job to find me, did you?”

Neville shakes his head. “Yes, and no. I was here as a consultant first, but then I heard the rumors, and then I just had to try and find you, so I signed a contract with Arasaka, and I--” Neville laughs nervously, ducking his head. “Gods, this is embarrassing.”

“No one’s ever looked for me, Nev,” Blaise whispers, a quiet secret between them. “No one’s ever cared for me, like you have.” 

Neville’s face softens into a smile, resting his head onto Blaise’s hand. “How could I not?”

Blaise sighs onto Neville’s lips, steeling his courage as his fingers travel towards the back of Neville’s head to pull him in.

“Blaise, what--” Neville starts before Blaise seals his mouth with a kiss. Neville’s mouth is almost suffocating, the heat, the sweetness, the surge of magic flooding into Blaise’s system, and Blaise feels like he’s drowning in it all. Neville’s clinging to him, scrabbling for purchase, his hands burning once more unto Blaise that he’s certain that there will be handprints splayed across his skin, marking him as _taken_. They part, gasping, forcing air back into their lungs as they cling onto each other, lightheaded and intoxicated, drunk off each other, and Blaise has never felt more alive. 

Neville sinks down, his head dropping onto Blaise’s shoulder as he laughs, softly kissing the skin at the juncture. “I love you. I think I’ve always loved you. Blaise, I don’t care what you do, please just never leave me like that again.”

“No. Never, love.” Blaise promises, holding Neville against him. The air between them is thick with magic and light and love, and for the first time in eight years, Night City finally feels like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! The companion piece to this fic is: [Almost Strangers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26664706) (Draco/Harry, T, 599 words) if you'd like to read more of this universe!


End file.
